Drew had met a wonderful woman at seminary, married her when they graduated, and come straight back to Comfort to the church. They’d had three cute little boys in about four years. The oldest had been in Mack’s agriculture classes and in his Future Farmers of America program. The two youngest still were. Their oldest son had joined the air force right out of high school. The middle one was a senior this year, and he already had an academic scholarship to Baylor University. The baby was a sophomore, and it looked like he would be following in his father’s footsteps.

Mack found Clay Donovan, Drew’s youngest, already in the classroom. Unless a miracle fell out of heaven, Clay would never be a tall man. He was about five foot seven, had straight light-brown hair like his mother and brown eyes like Drew’s dad, and had a slim build. But he’d been blessed with a deep voice, and when he spoke, most folks paid attention.

“I came in with Dad this morning, so I went ahead and got things ready,” Clay said.

“Thank you.” Mack sat down in one of the chairs. “Are you ready to go back to school next week?”

“Might as well be.” Clay chose a chair on the other side of the circle. “I kind of hate to see the year come to an end, though. I’ll miss Barry when he goes to college. It wasn’t the same around the house last year when Randall left, but it’ll be even worse when I’m the only one at home.”

“Spend all the time you can with your folks. I sure wish I had,” Mack told him.

The door opened and five teenage boys came in. They plopped into chairs and slid down until they were practically sitting on their backbones. Mack checked the time on the clock at the back of the room. Five more minutes and he’d begin the lesson.

Another minute ticked away, and Braden peeked into the room. “Is this the right place?”

“Come right on in.” Mack motioned with his hand.

All six boys sat up straighter when they saw Holly enter behind Braden.

“Take a seat anywhere,” Mack said. “We’ve still got a couple of minutes before we begin, and . . .” He turned to look toward the door when he heard laughter in the hallway. “There are the twins right now.”

Two girls with long black hair and brown eyes carried their Bibles into the classroom and took seats. Rose and Ivy Sanchez were fourteen. They’d just moved to Comfort a year ago, so they were still considered newbies, both in school and in church. They got seated, and then Isaac and Faith Torres arrived. Mack stood up and the room got quiet.

“We’ve got two new members today, so we should introduce ourselves. I’m Mack Cooper, and I’m your teacher. Clay, you can go next. Tell us your name and how old you are, maybe what grade you are in school.” Mack half expected either Holly or Braden to pop off a smart remark, but they both sat still. The only things that moved were their eyes, shifting from one kid to the next.

After everyone else had given their names, Braden and Holly introduced themselves, and Mack dug deeper by having everyone share whether they had siblings. Then he segued into the lesson about loving your brother. He could tell by the look on Holly’s face that she wasn’t buying a single bit of it—no way was she going to love Braden like she did herself.

While he was listening to the kids’ arguments about why they didn’t love their siblings, he thought about when he and Adam had been in that same classroom, right along with Drew. Mack loved his brother then, but he sure didn’t like him. Truth was, nothing about that situation had changed.

Lily wasn’t quite sure where she should go. The last time she and Wyatt had come to church in Comfort, they had gone to the young married couples’ class, but now that she wasn’t married anymore, she just stood in the middle of the sanctuary and wondered what to do. Sally came up behind her, looped an arm in hers, and steered her to the left.

“We go to the singles’ class,” she said. “Divorced or never married go in this one. We can’t go to the young married class anymore for two reasons. We’re damn sure not young.” She raised a hand toward the ceiling. “Forgive me, Lord. That Saturday-night language just slipped out.”

Lily giggled. “And the second reason?”

“We’re those wild divorcées who might steal one of those poor women’s husbands if we go into that class. We’re so bad that Preacher Drew teaches this one himself,” Sally whispered.

“You are not old,” Drew said right behind them. “And that’s not the reason we have this class. It’s for the fellowship.”

“Busted!” Sally laughed and gave Drew a hug.

Drew nodded over her shoulder toward Lily. “Welcome back to Comfort—we’re all glad to have you in church with us.”

“Thank you.” Lily entered the room first to find four other people already seated around a table.

“We’ve got a newcomer,” Drew said as he took his place and opened his Bible. “Y’all might remember her as Lily Miller. Now she’s Lily Anderson, and she’s moved back into the old Miller house south of town where she was raised.” He introduced the other four people by name. They must’ve moved to Comfort in the last few years, because she didn’t recognize any of them.

She made a concerted effort to put names with faces, though, as Drew began to talk about the responsibilities of being a good Christian. According to him, it went beyond showing up in church on Sunday morning and in knowing the Bible upside down and backward. It had to do with what was in the heart.

Lily’s mind drifted off as she wondered what was hiding down deep in her soul. She was still thinking about that when the time was up and they all filed out of the room to go to the sanctuary for church. Moving back, sleeping in the old house, cooking with her mother’s skillets—memories flooded her mind that morning as Drew preached on kindness. If she hadn’t had two teenage children sitting between her and Mack, she would have thought she’d taken a couple of giant leaps back in time. Nothing had changed. Not the house where she grew up. Not the church with its two rows of pews and a center aisle—the same one that she’d walked down on her daddy’s arm when she married Wyatt. Thinking of that, she remembered the journal. What would she write in one? Would someone read it in a hundred and fifty years and see themselves in the sorrows and joys, like she had when she read Ophelia’s first paragraph?